We are on the road.
It is pretty country, with the occasional junkyard.
Traffic is not too bad.
You do spend a lot of time waiting at train crossings.
You wait and you wait.
But now we are in Seguin, a city with traffic lights at every intersection, or so it seems.
I had not seen Seguin in many years. I remembered nothing. Nothing seemed familiar.
If I never see Seguin again, I would be OK with that.
Now we are looking at land that used to be in the family. I remember it only vaguely.
Back in Seguin.
Leaving Seguin, now.
No comments:
Post a Comment